


Little Sacrifices

by Feynite



Series: Looking Glass [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ocular trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feynite/pseuds/Feynite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Lavellan lost her eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Sacrifices

She cannot do it.

She holds the blade to his throat, and cannot swing. Her arm will not move. He stares back at her, steady and calm; almost entreating. Almost as if he hopes that she  _will_.

She won’t.

She never could, she knows then.

Slowly, her blade lowers. Defeated. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, she reads too much in them. Pain. Sorrow. Regret. Resolve.

Love.

“Break the wards,” he tells her.

Around them, the chamber glows. The trap set, and the Dread Wolf ensnared, through dint of great planning and effort. She should not be the one here. The binding agent, the one person they could all agree he would hesitate, at least a little, to harm; not the one meant to swing the blade. But she is the only survivor of his retaliation, the only one to live through the storm of his magic that should not have been possible; trying to break the binding spells and burning the air in the ancient chamber.

“No,” she says.

“Vhenan.”

“The only way it breaks is if I leave or you kill me. And I will not leave,” she tells him, squaring her shoulders and meeting his gaze.

His jaw clenches.

Then he closes his eyes again.

“Vhenan.  _Please_.”

Her vision blurs; tears. She blinks them back, sends them tumbling down her cheeks, where they won’t impede her gaze.

Somehow, that fails to put her sufficiently on guard when he reaches for her.

Slowly, almost reverently, he touches her face. She stills as his thumb brushes across her skin, breaking the tracks of her tears as he hangs his head for a moment. 

When he looks up again, his expression is forcibly blank.

 _He will do it,_  she thinks.

_This is it. This is how I end._

_“_ You are mistaken, my heart. Not all sacrifices demand death,” he replies.

Then magic ripples from his fingertips, and her face burns; her eye burns.

She reels back, reflexively, but after the first moment the pain stops. It  _shouldn’t_ , but it does. Her blood drips onto the floor and Solas stands, his hand still outstretched; fingers gently curled around a bloodied eye with a familiar-looking iris.

She stumbles, dizzy and disoriented.

He clenches his fist, and her stolen eye shatters into light; his own gaze glows silver.

The wards break.

As she lifts a shaking hand towards her face, he turns, and wordless, flees.


End file.
